Ink Stained

87: birthday girl (2)*

誕生日の女の子

Natsume kept her promise and uttered not a word more of what they'd spoken about in the bathroom. But of course, Pai was still ruined for the rest of the day.

When they returned to the booth, Pai adopted fiercely renewed interest in the ridges and imprints of her napkin, dancing the tines of her fork along its surface and watching the dents deepen and rise and vanish in seconds. Someone speaking to her – even when it was Aoi, to ask if she was okay – did not make her look up from her napkin to reassure that she was fine. She didn't dare lift her face because then everyone would see her ruddy cheeks, even after she'd splashed water on herself to try cooling her overheated face. She didn't want to let anyone see it, especially not Shiori – or Kouta, for that matter – because they would make sure to ask, in the loudest possible voice, if she was all right.

They could be so obnoxious sometimes.

The only other way she found to drag herself from being red-faced was to think about Aihara. That only served to cast her mood down to the pits, which wasn't at all what she wanted either. She didn't speak much for the rest of the day, poking at her dessert and stirring the straw in her chocolate milkshake rather than actually drinking it.

Sometimes she thought she saw Shin watching her, but she convinced herself that she was just imagining things. Natsume's words were making her think she was seeing what wasn't really there. There was no way any of what she said was true.

That only made her feel worse, instead of better. Her entire system was in shambles, swinging from dizzying highs to nauseating lows so quickly that she was certain she was going to be sick at some point before they got home.

Aoi, Natsume, and Shuusei went home on their own at around five in the evening, since they all lived on the same street. Natsume randomly came up to Pai and gave her a tight hug, whispering in her ear that if she needed to talk to someone, Pai could always talk to her or Shiori or Aoi. Then she quickly re-joined her brother and Aoi on their way home. Shiori gave Pai an odd look as they started for the train station after that.

Pai worried about how she was supposed to explain what happened in the bathroom, something Shiori was certain to question, while strategically avoiding mentioning that she had unresolved feelings for a certain Daitengu she'd spent too much time with in the last few months. She knew that a vague answer would not satisfy Shiori's endless curiosity, but she didn't know how to come up with a plausible lie, either.

The headache continued to pound at her skull relentlessly the more her thoughts spun in round and round in never-ending circles.

"Good evening." Pai glanced up at the intercom speakers overhead, her stomach curling painfully. "There has been a minor delay with the five-thirty train. It will be arriving at five forty-five. We are sorry for the delay. Thank you for your patience."

She looked at Shiori at the same time as she did her. Both were pale, remembering the last time they heard that automated voice reciting the same words. The day she had been too afraid, and Shiharu died because of it.

A fine tremor shook her fingers and she looked down. A little part of her was intensely aware that Shin was looking at her as she stretched her fingers over her leg, watching for the customary shaking of her hands that hadn't made an appearance in a while. The amber gemstone in her ring flashed under the lights as her fingers trembled, and then went still.

She idly wondered if Aihara knew the reason why her hands shook like this. She worried that she was too scared to find out.

Scared. She was always scared, even when she had a blank face to hide behind.